


Shatter Me

by darth_stitch



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, POV Child, POV Outsider, Russian Mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 11:59:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2427920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darth_stitch/pseuds/darth_stitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a Fairy Tale From a Russia That Never Was </p>
<p> </p>
<p>On her fifth birthday, Vasilisa received the most wondrous doll from her mother.  The doll was called the Winter Soldier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shatter Me

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at [The Blanket Fort](http://darthstitch.tumblr.com/post/99390678606/shatter-me-a-fairy-tale-from-a-russia-that-never)
> 
> I am including a trigger warning for child abuse, though it’s actually very minor and doesn't get any farther than frightening/slightly hurting the kid. If this still upsets you, please tread carefully.

On her fifth birthday, Vasilisa received the most wondrous doll from her mother.

Her doll was as handsome as a Prince in a storybook, with skin the color of snow, hair as black as winter’s night and eyes the color of a winter’s morn.  He was finely dressed in the uniform of a Cossack soldier, with a tiny rifle slung across his shoulders and a saber at his hip. 

The only odd thing about her doll was that his left arm was made entirely of metal. 

Her Mother hugged Vasilisa close and said, “This is the Winter Soldier.  You must never tell  _anyone_ this name. Take care of him, my little love and he will care for you in turn.”

"But if I am not to call him the Winter Soldier, Mama, then what will be his name?"

Her Mother smiled.  “Perhaps, one day, he will tell you.”

Vasilisa was a good girl, who always minded her mother.  So of course she promised.

Her mother died before her sixth birthday. 

She held her doll - her Winter Soldier - tight in her arms, shed her tears into his hair.  Into his ears, she whispered her little secrets, how very much she missed her mother.

_Be brave, Vasilisa.  Be brave,_ zvyozdochka _.  I will protect you._

Her imagination, perhaps, made her hear the Winter Soldier’s voice.  It was a kind voice, a gentle one.  It told her stories about a tiny boy, with fair hair and summer-sky eyes.  Though his body was weak, his spirit was strong.  He hated bullies and fought for those who could not defend themselves, even though these were battles he could not win, even though others would be right to fear and run away.   

He was brave.  So Vasilisa could be brave too. 

Vasilisa needed that more than ever, now that her mother was gone, leaving her in the care of her new stepfather. 

Her stepfather was not kind.

After her mother died, her stepfather would linger in her bedroom, stroking her hair, singing her a little rhyme:

_Vasilisa the Beautiful, Vasilisa the Fair, there is nothing to fear.  
What stories did your mother tell you, my sweet little dear? _

Vasilisa shrank from his cold, cold eyes, his cold, cold hands but she answered in a clear little voice, holding tight to her Soldier. 

"Nothing, Step-papa. Only a song and a kiss, from my Mama. And a good night." 

Her stepfather would look most displeased and he would leave her in the dark, without even a nightlight to keep the monsters away. 

But that was all right.  Vasilisa had her Soldier to protect her. 

One night, her stepfather’s strange rhyme changed:

_Vasilisa the Beautiful, Vasilisa the Fair, there is nothing to fear.  
What_  _ **secrets**_ _did your mother tell you, my sweet little dear?_

So Vasilisa answered, without a quaver, “No secrets, Step-papa.  Only a song and a kiss from my Mama.  And her good night.”

But this time, that cold, cold hand in her hair tightened in the strands.  It hurt.  _Oh, but it hurt!_

Her stepfather called her a foul name and snarled, “Enough games! What did your mother tell you about the Winter Soldier?”

But Vasilisa was brave, even though he hurt her.  Vasilisa was a good girl and she minded her mother.  Vasilisa made a promise. 

"Nothing! I know nothing!"

_Close your eyes, Vasilisa!_

Vasilisa obeyed.  Her stepfather only had time to scream _Hail, Hydra!_ but after that, there was only the clear whistle of a saber arching through the air and then nothing.

Little Vasilisa was carried up, up, up, her face pressed into a broad shoulder.  There was a cold hand in her hair again, but this time the touch was gentle and comforting.  Much like her mother’s. 

_Don’t look, Vasilisa!_

It was the voice of her Soldier.  Vasilisa obeyed. She would not see the headless body of her stepfather on the floor of her bedroom.  Or his head being placed on the table.

When Vasilisa could look again, she was held safe and sound in the arms of a man.  A man whose skin was pale as the snow, with hair as black as winter night and eyes the clear blue of a winter’s morn.  He looked fine and fierce in his Cossack uniform.  There was blood on the saber at his hip. 

His eyes were quite kind. 

And she knew his voice too.

"You must be brave again, _zvyozdochka._ It is no longer safe for you to be here.  We must go far from here, where HYDRA cannot find us.  I will not be their weapon again. I will protect you.”

"Where shall we go?"

The Soldier hesitated.  But then he took her hand, rubbed warmth into her cold fingers.  “We must find my Captain.  He is the best man in all the world.  Though I do not know where to begin.”

Vasilisa had the answer.  For the Winter Soldier’s secret was not the only one her mother had entrusted her to keep.  Vasilisa and her mother had many, many secrets.

"We must go to _Babushka_!  She is very wise.  She knows everything in all the world.  She might know where your Captain is.”

The Soldier nodded.  As he cleaned the blood off his saber, Vasilisa asked him the question she had always wanted to know the answer to.  “What is your name?  Surely it is not Winter Soldier?” 

The Soldier’s eyes went distant.  “They made me lose my name, long ago.”

That made Vasilisa sad.  “That isn’t right.  Everyone should have their own name.  I could give you one, if you like?” 

He smiled.  “Name me then, _zvyozdochka.”  
_

"May I call you _Yasha?_ " 

He laughed.  “I think, a long time ago, I remember someone calling me _Iacov.  Yasha_ will do quite well.  It is a good name, as names will go.  Thank you, _zvyozdochka.”_

She beamed.

***

For most people, it was not easy to find _Babushka_ , though she lived in a little hut that walked on stout chicken legs and occasionally, _Babushka_ traveled all over the Russias in a great mortar and a pestle to steer her way.  

But Vasilisa knew _Babushka_ loved her in her own way, as she loved all her daughters.  So she would _always_ be able to find  _Babushka_ when she needed to.  

_Babushka_ cackled with glee when Vasilisa came to her, Yasha the Soldier in tow.  “I have been waiting for you and your Soldier, _zvezda moya._ Took you long enough to get here!”

Vasilisa greeted _Babushka_ with a hug and a kiss, which mollified that formidable woman quite greatly.  Of course, _Babushka_ knew everything.  

"Your Captain has been searching all the world for you.  True love makes fools even of the greatest soldier in history."

Yasha huffed, though his cheeks were quite red from blushing.  “He loves a shadow and a memory.  There is nothing left of that man in me.”

"Then you are a fool twice over.  You shall not save him, if you continue to be so blind."

That caught the Soldier’s interest and in alarm, he asked. “Is he in danger?  Where is he?”

Vasilisa caught Yasha’s arm and hugged it to her.  It was his metal arm, but he felt her silent offering of comfort all the same.   

At that, _Babushka’s_ eyes softened.  For contrary to most tales of her, _Babushka_ had a heart, though she sometimes kept it well hidden from prying, mortal eyes.  “If you wish to save him, seek out the Widow.  You will find her where the Little Father used to dwell.  Perhaps you may make it in time.”

***

_Tsarskoye Selo_ was the place _Babushka_ spoke of, though it had been a long, long time since the Tsar and his family lived there.  Vasilisa and Yasha the Soldier had a hard time avoiding the eyes of HYDRA but perhaps _Babushka_ blessed them with a little luck.  They had arrived at their destination still unscathed, with a good lead over their enemies.  

The Widow was as beautiful as she was perilous, with hair the color of heart’s blood.  There were many stories about her, that perhaps she was a princess, sole survivor of that dreadful day when the Tsar and his family were brought down by bullet and bayonet.  Perhaps she was a ballerina of the _Bolshoi_ , who could dance life into the music of Tchaikovsky the way no other could.  Perhaps she was a killer, who enticed men with her beauty and her apparent weakness, a spider expertly weaving her web.

Perhaps all of these stories were false.

Perhaps all of them were true.

But Vasilisa knew one thing for sure, when she looked into the Widow’s green, green eyes.  She too was one of _Babushka’s_ many daughters.  

"Tetya," she greeted her politely, as her mother had taught. 

And the Widow turned to them, sorrow in those green, green eyes.  In her arms was a doll, dressed in blue, finery fit for a Romanov Prince, with fair hair and summer-sky eyes.  The only thing different was that instead of a saber, he carried a round shield. 

"He despaired.  And HYDRA will spare no mercy, not even for grief.  It was the only way I could think of, to keep him with us."

And she handed the doll to Vasilisa.  For the Soldier was far too distraught to hold him, the doll who had been his beloved Captain.

The Widow smiled faintly.  “Love is for children.  Work what magic you can, _zvyozdochka.”  
_

And so, Vasilisa took care of the Captain doll, the way that she had cared for her Soldier.  She told him the stories that Yasha had spun for her, about that boy who was brave, even though he was frail.  She whispered that Yasha loved him, though he was, for some reason, much too afraid to say so. 

She hoped that the Captain heard her.

She hoped that he _believed_ her.

And in all this, Yasha and the Widow made preparations to leave for the distant land of America, where they could seek refuge in a Tower owned by a great Knight, who was only, on occasion, as the Widow said, rolling her eyes heavenwards, very, very silly.  Here also dwelled a god and a jade green giant.  There was also a hunter, the greatest marksman in all the world and a soldier who could fly with great wings of steel.  

All were sworn enemies of HYDRA.

Vasilisa would be safe. 

Yasha would not touch the doll, would not even _look_ at it.  The Widow called him an idiot and he snarled back that she should not have wrought her spell.  That he would have taken her head with his saber, except that she was still the Captain’s friend and her intentions had been good.  Once more, he declared that he was not the man the Captain loved, so long ago.  Once more, he said that there was nothing left of that man. 

Finally, Vasilisa tugged gently at his sleeve, wrapping small fingers around the warm fur of his coat.  “If what you say is true, then why do you still know all your Captain’s stories? Why do you still carry him in your heart?”

For of course, Vasilisa had divined who it was that Yasha had spoken of to her, that frail, sweet, brave boy who had grown into the Captain, the Captain that Yasha had followed even beyond death. 

Yasha, her Soldier, had no answer to that.  The doll, held secure in her arms, looked up at him with empty blue eyes. 

That night, as Vasilisa closed her eyes and tried to sleep, though sleep would be hard in coming since this would be her last night in her motherland, she sensed Yasha’s presence in the room.  She felt him press a loving kiss into her hair, heard him whisper _Sleep well,_ _zvyozdochka._

And while she kept her eyes closed, she heard him speak.  He called out a name.  He spoke words in a different tongue, with a slight drawl to his voice that she had never heard before.  While Vasilisa could not understand him, she could understand grief.  She could understand longing. 

She could understand love, most of all.

And the name she heard him speak was _Steve._

***

The morning brought the minions of HYDRA to the place where Vasilisa and her friends sought refuge.  The Widow and the Soldier were both skilled warriors and the Soldier fought with all the ferocity of the Cossack, with his rifle and his saber.  He had sworn that he would not be taken by HYDRA ever again.  And the Widow made the same vow. 

Yasha bade her hide and he had kissed both her and the Captain doll.  “For luck,” he said.

Vasilisa knew that it was a farewell.

She wanted to be brave.  But it was so very, very hard.

"Steve," she whispered into her Captain doll’s hair.  "Help us."

_Vasilisa, get down!_

And Vasilisa heard a bullet hit metal. 

When she opened her eyes, she was the one being held in strong arms, behind the safety of a great round shield. 

Here was the Captain, the boy of Yasha’s stories, with his bright hair and his summer-sky eyes, no longer empty and filled with despair.  Here was Yasha’s _Steve_. 

He smiled at Vasilisa, sunny and sweet.  Like Yasha, he looked on her with kindness.  And once more, like Yasha, he asked her to be brave. 

She nodded. 

And the Captain took his place beside the Soldier and the Widow and though they were only three, they were strong enough to defeat HYDRA’s own soldiers.  From her hiding place, Vasilisa saw how well the Captain could wield his strange round shield as a weapon, how fiercely he fought, standing shoulder to shoulder with Yasha and the Widow. 

This day, more HYDRA heads were cut off.  Perhaps they would grow more.  But it would take quite a long time. 

Vasilisa would live happily in America, with two fine, loving fathers and a set of uncles and aunts who doted upon her and taught her many useful things. 

On her seventh birthday, Vasilisa received a gift from her new fathers - a plush bear who wore the same blue peacoat that her Papa Yasha had, which was, in fact, his favorite.   Of course, there was only one name she could give her bear, which made her other Papa Steve laugh and laugh, for as names go, it was a very good name, belonging to a good man and a hero, no matter how much certain Winter Soldiers may growl.   

A certain Winter Soldier was definitely placated with a great many kisses from his adoring husband.

In the meantime, as her fathers teased and bickered and loved, Vasilisa named her bear _Bucky_. 

_\- end -_

 

**Author's Note:**

> I am not a Russian speaker, so I appreciate a heads up if I got some words wrong.  I had to look up some of these words! :)
> 
> _zvyozdochka -_ little star  
>  _zvezda moya -_ my star _  
> _
> 
> This is based a bit on Vasilisa the Beautiful and of course, what Russian fairy tale would be complete without Baba Yaga? :)


End file.
